


The Death Of An Alley-cat

by luhv



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2020-06-27 03:31:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19782358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luhv/pseuds/luhv
Summary: On his way back home on the Southside of Riverdale, Jughead notices a shattered girl on the side of the road, her face marked with mascara tear stains and her palm bleeding from crescent shaped cuts. Feeling helplessly sorry for her, he decides to help her, not knowing that he was her last hope, not only from helping her off the side of the street, but her last hope at survival and love. **TRIGGER WARNING - includes RAPE, SELF HARM, SUICIDAL REFERENCES and ABUSE (and more probably)**





	1. Jughead

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone. I'm sorry for my break, and for orphaning my stories, but I am back and here I am re-writing my old version of Perfection Isn't Perfect. Hopefully, my skills have improved and I am in a better state of mind to write again.
> 
> Like I said, I am sorry for discontinuing my other three stories but I was in need for a fresh start. This book does include dark themes like I said, and please let me know what you think so I can improve and continue this story.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this story and I would like to give you a TRIGGER WARNING (self harm, rape, abuse)
> 
> \- Gracie Xx
> 
> ~ Chapter layouts and titles inspired by Five Feet Apart by Rachael Lippincott ~

My feet dragged against the rugged concrete pavement, passing by rows of shut down shops and tatty cheap stores, the strong, pungent scents of cigarettes, alcohol and drugs suffocates the air as I trudge back home in the pitch black with only the flickering streetlights barely illuminating the desolate road. This was a perfect description of the Southside of Riverdale, the side of town full of murderous gangs and drug dealing tramps: the side of town where the criminals came from, and where fights and wars happened every other night - it was a place you dared to be.

As I trudged home, I heard something other than the vicious swearing of angry men or the smashing of glass or the screams of pain and torture, but the whimpering of what sounded like a young girl, her breathing shallow and weak. My pace instantly quickened as I walked around the corner, the opposite way to my trailer at Sunny-side Trailer Park. I was forced to a complete stop when I saw her, the body of a girl slumped against the wall of a corner shop that had shut down recently after a robbery, her blonde hair in knotted matts, caught up against the abandoned, shattered window, its shards nudging her neck and head. A broken wine bottle lay by her opened hand, crimson blood seeping from the deep cuts, her wrists slashed and scared, some much newer than others. Her black dress was torn to shreds, revealing the side of her bra and her hip, and her bare legs were stained in red hand marks from rough gripping and hits. One of her heels were snapped, and her ears were slit - I assume her earrings had been forcefully ripped out. Shakily, squatted down at her side, frightened that she may be dead. Hesitantly, I reached for the hand closest to me; the porcelain skin ice-cold and hinted with grey, masked by the dark blood that continued to gush from her open wound. She suddenly flinched, her eyes opening frailly, showing her emerald iris, glistening with fresh tears. Her mouth opened to speak, but no sound came out. Tears rolled down the side of the cheek, dripping onto her shoulder like a singular drop of rain. It made my heart sink.

"I-" I couldn't speak - I was dumbfounded, "I'm Jughead-"

I swallowed heavily, trying to get rid of the lump lodged in my throat. The girl, stared into my eyes sorrowfully, a plea for help.

"Can you walk?" I questioned, but her head shook a doleful 'no'.

For a moment I thought. Who would I call? My father wasn't an option, for I have no idea where he is - probably in a gang fight or yelling at an innocent, helpless gang-wannabe, inching to be tougher. Nor was my mother, as I have no idea where she is; she ditched me and took my sister somewhere I wasn't allowed to know, leaving me with a drunken failure, only caring for his gang and alcohol. I had no friends, or anyone to trust. I had no-one to call. 

"Should I call an ambulance?"

Her eyes widened, her head shaking once again, seemingly more responsive now. It made me question her situation further. What the hell had happened to her?

"No- police-" she breathed, forcing the words out, wincing as she struggled.

Biting the inside of my lip, I debated what to do. I couldn't leave her, not to get kidnapped or taken advantage off by some pervert roaming the streets looking for easy women. That may have already happened, I don't fucking know. I rose to my feet, rubbing my face with my hand as I sighed heavily, avoiding looking at the unbearable sight of the poor girl more than I needed to. 

After a moment of me pacing beside her, I'd only thought of one way to tackle the situation. I knelt back down beside her, moving a strand of her hair out of the way of her face, revealing a long cut down the side of her face, dirt covering it and blending with the half-dried blood. My breathing hitched, and a look of sadness wiped over her distraught face for a brief moment. 

"Can you tell me your name?" I asked.

She nodded weakly, "B- Betty."

"Okay Betty," I said to her, dropping my hand to her shoulder, "I'm going to carry you to my trailer and get you cleaned up alright."

There was no response, but I wasn't giving her an option. Watching her face for the entirety of the time, I snaked by arms underneath her delicate frame, lifting her off the concrete ground, her body seeming lifeless as I lifted her light body up. Her head fell onto my chest, resting into it, her bleeding arms and hands drooping and swinging in rhythm of her legs as I carried her back towards the Trailer Park, eyes closed and breathing flimsy. Rain began to heavily fall, instantly soaking us, the blood from her body running away and mixing with the puddles and streams on the ground.

Using my foot, I kicked open the trailer door, keeping Betty firmly contempt in my arms. Passing through the doorway and out of the rain, Betty became aware again, her eyes forcing themselves open. Gently, I lay her down on the sofa, getting a cushion for her head to rest on. With haste, I grabbed for the first-aid kit in the kitchen cupboard, carrying the bright green box over to her and kneeling by her head, preparing a cotton pad and some ointment. Wary of the stinging pain it would cause her, I gently dabbed the ointment on the cut on her the side of her face. She gritted her teeth, reaching over to me, finding refuge in holding onto my shoulder, digging her nails into my t-shirt, squinting her eyes together as she hissed.

"I'm sorry, Betty." I whispered, feeling tears come to my own eyes - I hated seeing a vulnerable girl in so much pain, "I need to clean it."

"I- I know-" she growled through her clenched jaw her hand gripping tighter onto me.

However her hands were the hardest to tackle. The small crescent cuts on her hands were deep, the blood still leaking from them. The ointment ran between the creases in her hand, her legs kicking vigorously from the agony. She constantly tried to curl them back into fists, but I prevented her from doing so, holding onto her fingers as I applied the solution.

Once I'd done and her wounds had been tended to, I sat down on the floor by her head, my hand still holding onto hers to stop her from causing anymore pain to herself. Her arms were shaking, her breathing ragged and her ears overflowing with tears she'd been trying to hold back, like a dam overflowing water.

"Betty..?"

There was silence.

I decided to ask the burning question anyways, "What happened?"

"I- I tripped. Acc- accidentally." she stuttered, finding it audibly difficult to breathe.

"I don't believe that." I replied in a broken whisper, finding my feet and then perching myself on the edge of the coffee table. 

Her eyes looked over at me shamefully, knowing that she'd been caught lying. But still, she refused to tell me the truth.

"Please, Betty. The only way I can help you is if you tell me what happened." I said in attempt to convince her to speak to me, but she kept her mouth firmly shut, "Betty..." I repeated.

But still nothing. Her eyes remained focused on the trailer ceiling, purposely avoiding eye-contact with me. I looked over to the clock on the wall, watching the ticking arms for a moment before reading the time; it was half eleven at night, and only now I noticed how silent it was apart from her faint breathing and the clocks rhythmic clockwork. 

"You can have the bed." I told her, and her emotionless face finally looked at me, a weak, unconvincing smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Thank you, Jughead." she responded.

She attempted to get up, however she collapsed back onto the sofa after very little effort. Before she could try again, I'd swept her up, lifting her body again and carrying her bridal-style into the bedroom. On the right side of the bed, I lowered her onto the duvet, and instantly she was fiddling with the hem of her dress, tugging it upwards in attempt to pull it over herself.

"Woah! Wait a second, Betty!" 

Keeping my eyes off her, I managed to find and old t-shirt that was probably too small for me now. It was a faded grey, marked with a huge 'S' in the centre, the letter crumbling off now after many washes. I threw it too her, hoping she was capable of getting changed without me.

"Jughead..." she whined, sighing.

"Yeah..."

"Um," she hesitated, "Can you help me?"

Exhaling deeply, I turned around to face her, and as much as I tried to not look at her body, my eyes were uncontrollable. However, I saw some things that were purely haunting. More hand-marks bruised her skin, and more cuts and scars permanently marked her soft skin. Redirecting my eyes to her face, I could see that she was looking away in a melancholic manner, almost ashamed. Helping her to her feet, I placed her hands on my shoulders so that she would stay balanced. I wasn't even sure how she managed to remove that tight dress. I reached over for the old top, causing Betty to loose her balance. She collapsed onto my chest, her knees almost buckling underneath her. 

After she was finally dressed, which took longer than it needed too, I helped her get into bed, her eyes squinting and her teeth gritting together when her body ached and hurt with her movements. On my way out, I heard her force my name out of her mouth.

"Jughead..."

I turned to face her. Her frame was still shaking, her unbrushed hair spread across the pillow and her leg pocking out from underneath the duvet.

"Yes?"

Her voice was wobbly as she spoke, "I don't want to be alone... Please can you stay in here with me."

I debated this in my head, but her widened, teary eyes convinced me to stay with her. After all, she must've had a rough night, I mean, look at the state of her. It looked as if she'd been pulled through a bush backwards. I climbed in beside her, staying above the covers resting my arms over my chest with my back half-resting against the headboard. Instantly, her body shuffled over to me, her arm casually falling over my torso with her head on my chest and in the nook of my neck. Before long, I heard deeper breathing, and the beat of her heartbeat thudded against my side.

Soon enough, I felt my eyelids beginning to droop, feeling weighted as the shut. Before long, I was asleep with a troubled girl cuddled up to me with her head cocooned into my neck.


	2. Betty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to listen to a song, I suggest 'Shallows' by Daughter :)
> 
> \- Gracie x

As I began to wake, I saw the bright sunlight through my closed eyelids, and as consciousness returned, the thudding of a headache quickly attacked my head. My entire body ached and hurt as I shuffled slightly under a thick duvet. An array of sudden images flashed through my mind, showing me a blurred face, flickering streetlights and seeping deep red cuts on my own body.

Hissing through my teeth from the pain, I sat up, opening my eyes slowly, adjusting to the light. However, the room around me was definitely not mine. It had worn grey walls, dark wood blinds and a built-in wardrobe along one wall. There were posters of motorbike and icon celebrities - anything a stereotypical teenage boy might like.

_Wait_... a teenage boy?

My head spun round to look at the empty space on the other side of the bed, which had the subtlest outline of a male figure. And at that moment, I noticed I wasn't in the same clothes I left the party in yesterday. _Shit_ , I thought, realising he would've seen the red hand-marks that were printed over my skin, and maybe even the scars that marked my wrists.

Grasping my throbbing head, I stumbled out of bed, falling onto the wall with a loud thud as my legs refused to support me. After a moment of silence, I could hear footsteps getting louder, and then a shadow, and then the teenage boy I'd been expecting, but his image not as I'd imagined. His faced was washed with genuine worry, and he grabbed his crowned beanie and flung it onto the bed as he hurried over to me, holding me up with his hands on my waist, preventing me from sliding to the floor. 

He directed me back over to the bed, sitting me down on the soft duvet, only letting go when he was certain I wasn't going to collapse. For a few moments, he watched me with worried eyes before then sitting down next to me, but not to close. I daren't meet his eyes, and I knew he'd seen my bruises by now as he'd only put me in a long t-shirt that only jut past my hips, exposing my legs. 

"How are you feeling?" his soft voice asked, keeping his eyes on me.

"...rough." I murmured in response, keeping my eyes on the dark grey carpet beneath my feet.

He sighed, "How much do you remember from last night?"

"Very little..." I said, "I can't even remember who you are?"

"I'm Jughead, and I helped you off the side of the streets last night." he told me, keeping his voice quiet and delicate.

Then, I was able to picture a few fleeting moments from the night before. I was able to see his face staring at me with astonishment in the dark streets of the Southside. I was able to picture his trailer that he'd carried me into, his warm arms carrying me through the door. I was able to picture him awkwardly getting onto the bed with me after my request.

For the first time, my eyes met with his his, his emerald iris' glaring back into mine.

He cared. He actually cared.

"Thank you." I whispered, looking away again, stopping him from seeing my tearful eyes as they began to well up. 

I wasn't used to someone who wanted the best for me, or wanted me safe and happy. I could tell by the way he looked at me, and how quickly he came to my side when I fell. In all honesty, I was expecting someone who only wanted to get into my pants, as that what usually happened when you wake up in another guy's bed without remembering anything, but he wasn't like that. He wasn't like all the other guys out there.

"Do you want anything?" he asked me, "Food, a drink? The showers through there if you want a wash..?"

But I didn't know what I wanted. My appetite was MIA right now, and I wasn't confident I'd be able to shower properly without falling. 

"A drink, please." I muttered, quickly glancing at him. 

"Is water alright? I don't have much in."

I nodded.

Without saying anything, he left he room, smiling a thin-lipped smile before disappearing into the kitchen. As I heard the trap run, I shuffled up the bed, squinting my eyes together in attempt to bare the pain, groaning quietly. Weakly, I pushed myself up so my back was against the headboard, my arms shaking under the pressure of my body. My legs struggled to push myself up, but they did very little as they began to feel slightly numb. I looked down at the scars and hand-prints on my skin, remembering each time I got one, and how satisfied his face was as he did them. 

"Here." his velvet voice said, snapping me out of it. 

Taking it from him, he then sat on the edge of the bed, watching me as I drank the water, my throat almost refusing to drink it, but I forced the liquid down despite the pain. I couldn't help but wonder how long he'd stood there, watching as I stared at my legs, lost in another realm.

He inhaled sharply, debating something in his head; "What happened last night?" 

I'd dreaded that question, even if I knew it was coming eventually. I had to lie, otherwise he'd tell the police. He _cannot_ tell the police.

"I- I don't remember." I stuttered, obviously lying.

And he definitely could tell. His eyebrow raised at me, his eyes flickering to one of the hand-marks on my shin. It was clear he knew something was up.

"I know that's a lie, Betty." he responded, "What actually happened?"

My mouth stayed closed, not answering his question. Even if I wanted to tell him, I physically wouldn't be able to. I'd probably loose my voice, or burst into tears. Or maybe even both.

I can remember him telling me not to 'grass him up', growling at me as he pinned me to the wall, both hands at the sides of my head, caging me. He told me that if he did, they wouldn't press charges against him because he was the 'golden boy' and the smart teenage footballer that wouldn't do any harm. He was the coaches son, and he didn't let me forget that. Everyone would take his side rather than his innocent, goody-two shoes of a girlfriend. Over and over he would threaten me, saying that if I told the police, or anyone for that matter, he'd make my life a living hell. Not that it wasn't already though, but it did make me fear him. A lot.

"I can't tell you, Jughead." I said, my head lowered shamefully, "I can't."

"Why not?"

He wasn't going to let up anytime soon. To be fair, if I saw someone almost dead on the side of the road, I would want to demand what the hell went off. But however much he tried, he wasn't going to get anything out of me, because that would put not only me, but him too at risk. It would kill me to see a kindhearted person like himself to get beaten up all because I couldn't keep my mouth shut. 

"I can't."

As I glanced up, he looked away, biting his lip and he thought. I hated to admit it, but he looked _hot_ when he bit his lip. I wish I looked as sexy as that when I bit my lip...

"Listen, Betty..." his voice trailed off as he tried to find the right words, "Whatever happened, you can tell me. I won't tell anyone or the police if you don't want me to, but I need you to know that I am really concerned for you and I want to help you."

His voice sounded nervous yet genuine, like he wasn't sure that the words he was saying were the right ones. But I still believed him, I believed that he wouldn't tell anyone, however for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to tell him. 

My lips formed a tight line, "I can't right now, but when I'm ready, maybe I can." I whispered.

I outstretched my arms, leaning forward despite my aching body, asking silently for a hug. I needed that reassurance as much as a young child would. Thankfully, he pulled me into a warm embrace, my head leaning into the crook of his neck as his arms wrapped around my frail frame. A chill ran down my spine; I'd never felt this safe and contempt before, and for the first time, even for a fleeting moment, I felt happy. I'd missed this feeling so much, and now, I didn't want to let it go.

It took a total of exactly twelve minutes for me to get into the kitchen of Jughead's little trailer, with his help of course. His warm hands supported my waist as I took each wobbly step, keeping me upright and stopping me from falling flat on my face. My head still felt as if it was about to explode and my entire body felt as it was about to collapse underneath me. He placed me down on one of the kitchen chairs, taking a seat next to me as he adjusted the unique crown beanie back onto his head that he'd taken off earlier. 

He caught me looking at it: "You like it?" 

I could feel my cheeks heating up, the rosy shade becoming visible on my face as I looked away from shyness. He chuckled a husky laugh, making the obvious redness harder to get rid of. 

"Yeah..." I admitted, my voice quiet.

He laughed again. My eyes finally plucked up the courage to look at him again, and I saw that he was removing his hat from his black, fluffy hair. _I wonder what conditioner he uses..._ I thought. With gentle hands, he placed it on my head, fitting it perfectly upon my wavy, yet knotted blonde hair, then looked from a distance to see how it looked.

"That annoying." He muttered, loud enough so that I could just hear him.

"What is?"

He smirked, "It suits you better than me."

I smiled at him, showing him a genuine smile, forgetting everything that's happened to me for the first time. I wasn't acting like I'd taught myself to do all day long, but for once, I didn't think or worry about anything. I didn't care about _him_ or his pathetic threats, nor did I worry about going back. IN that moment, I was happy. I'd almost forgotten what it felt like.

But like my mother had warned me, _good things never last too long._

And she was right. In less than a minute, my mind had come back to its senses, and began to whirl more, questions flurrying my brain. _He'd_ probably be calling me, ringing me, commanding me to come over to his for him to treat me as he wanted. I could picture him exactly a week ago today, a can of Cola in his left hand as he caressed the side of my arm, gradually getting closer to my private area on my chest. I'd tried to remove his hand, push it off or something, but he was too strong. I wasn't able to, and because I'd defied him, he got angry. He hit my arm cover and over until the skin was redder than sunburn, the stinging pain it'd left behind remaining for the entire day, and for the rest of that week, my only option of clothing was a long sleeved T-shirt or jumper to hide the evidence.

The memory was so vivid that I began to feel the pain recurring on my arm, the sensation clawing through the underside of my skin. It felt real yet artificial, like some sort of chemical had been injected into my arm. I could feel the tears forming in my eyes, forcing their way out, past my eyelids and down my cheeks. 

"Hey, Betts..." his hand touched my arm, the one that the stinging was on: it flinched from his touch, but I didn't pull away, "What's the matter?"

His voice was so soft, so delicate. I shook my head, forcing the tears back, my throat now sore. I felt myself fall towards Jughead, and he caught me, pulling me into another embrace in attempt to calm me, but it made me sob more. He must've been so confused: after all, I had began to cry randomly out of nowhere, my tears now soaking his t-shirt. In silence, he rocked me, the soothing rhythm somehow making me tired, my eyes closing as my head rested against his chest.

"I need you to tell me what happened." He whispered, stroking my hair softly. 


	3. Jughead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to listen to a song, I suggest 'Be Alright' by Dean Lewis :)
> 
> \- Gracie x

I needed to know what had happened; I couldn’t wait any longer. After seeing her break down that easily in so little time, I knew something serious had gone off. It made my heart break for her, and knowing that only a flicker of a memory could upset her, I had to push for an answer. I kept my eyes on her, watching her expression as she contemplated thoughts in her head. This is one of the times where I wished I could read minds.

“Betty...” she didn’t reply, “Please, Betts. I need to know.”

She eventually looked up at me, her hands wiping her teary eyes, making them redder and puffier than they were before. This is when I caught a glimpse of the garnet-coloured crescent cuts on her palms which I remember seeing when I found her last night; she quickly covered them up when she'd noticed I'd seen them. For now, I didn't speak of them, but they still made me wonder. 

"It- it would be worse if I told you." she stammered, her shakily voice only managing to speak, "Please, Jughead. D- don't force me to tell you."

It was hard to pressure her now, knowing how much she didn't want to say. But now, I had to decide whether to push her to say despite her not wanting to however it would be for the better in the long run, or just leave her be because that what she wants but then have this weight on my shoulders that I let a sad and possibly suicidal girl go whilst she's still hurting. I bit my lip, looking down to the table as I considered the options and what would eventually be better later on.

I looked into her eyes, slowly shaking my head, "I'm sorry, Betty.", another tear fell from her jade eyes, "You're going to have to tell me."

"Why? Just let me go home." she whimpered.

I couldn't stop her from going home, but there was something in her voice that told me she didn't want to go back, despite asking me to let her go. It was the way her eyes blanked over as she spoke, and how monotone her voice became. 

"Okay."

She appeared baffled by my response, her eyebrow twitching slightly as her cut lips parted a little.

"Are- are you serious..?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

I nodded, rising from my chair and reaching for my jacket I'd thrown on the kitchen floor beside the fridge, brushing the dust on it before flinging it over my shoulders. As I'd suspected, Betty stayed seated, avoiding obvious eye-contact with me as she tried to wipe the tear stains from her face, though they didn't disappear. Seeing that she didn't move, I sat in the seat again, waiting for her to speak. But she didn't. Using my index finger, I directed her chin to look at me, her eyes then meeting with mine reluctantly. She didn't seem phased by the touch of my finger on her skin, nor did she seem to mind. The world seemed to freeze around us, each breath seeming louder than it actually was, like that was the only sound in the universe. If anything, Betty was comforted by this as her eyes closed, savouring the peaceful moment. It made me wonder what was going on in her mind, what troubles and traumas tortured her and made her as sad as she was. 

"I'll tell you..." she murmured under her breath, "...only if you promise to keep it a secret."

"...and if you promise to keep me safe from them." she added in a quieter whisper.

I dropped my hand, and her eyes flickered open instantly, a singular tear falling from her left eye which didn't even appear teary. Though I didn't ask, I wondered who 'they' were, and why they caused her to cry so effortlessly. It was heartbreaking, seeing someone as innocent and sweet as Betty hurting as much as she did. 

"I promise." I said to her as sincerely as I could, but if what she told me was as bad as I could imagine, I would have no choice but to tell the police or social services.

She'd made herself comfy on the sofa with a fluffy blanket and a cup of hot chocolate like she'd asked for, her hair tied up in a loose ponytail with whisps of hair falling from the hair-band. She was still wearing my t-shirt, and had found some of JB's slippers that had poked out from under the bed that I'd kept since Christmas after my mother and her disappeared. I'd propped myself on the edge of the coffee table, watching her face relax and a contempt smile tug at her lips. I could see the genuine happiness in her eyes - it was like a kid who was given a puppy for their birthday. 

"Thank you, Jughead." she said to me, placing the mug of hot chocolate on the coffee table beside my leg, "Oddly enough, I've never felt this happy in _ages."_

I raised an eyebrow, "Really?"

Her smile dropped, and she nodded sorrowfully, pulling the blanket up to her neck in a form of comfort. 

"Yeah." there was a pause as she contemplated something in her head, her whole expression falling as her joyous mood became non-existence, "You want to know, don't you."

"I want to see you happy." I responded, leaning forward and propping myself up with my elbows. 

This reassured her, a thin lipped smile faintly appearing, however it disappeared a second later. She exhaled deeply, looking around the room as a form of distraction, her fists curling up uncontrollably as the horrifying thoughts rushed to her head in flashes, clouding her thoughts, or so I assumed. She wasn't a difficult person to read.

"Okay..." she sighed, her teeth biting the inside of her lip, enough to make blood redden her lips, "I- I can do this."

I reached forward and took her fisted hand in both of mine, using my thumb to stroke the back of her hand and uncurling her hand. I nodded at her, telling her it's okay. As hard as she tried, she couldn't keep the tears at bay; I was surprised she had any left to cry. I shifted from my pirch on the coffee table and sat beside her, my hand finding it's way onto her back and my other hand wiped the tears from her face. I hated seeing her this way, and I hated the pain that she'd been holding in all this time, preserving it in the burrows and caves of her mind. She slowly swayed towards me, her body leaning into mine, finding comfort cocooned next to me as the sound of the clock ticked each second by. I was all she had.

"If you're not ready to tell me..." I whispered to her, "You don't have to."

She shook her head, wiping away the silent tears, "No, I do."

Eventually, she moved away from me, leaning back against the sofa as she exhaled deeply, running her hands over her face. She muttered something, but I wasn't able to catch what she said as he hands blocked the words. For a while she couldn't meet my eyes, it was as if it would kill her to look. Her lips parted to speak.

"Remember your worst nightmare. The one that kept you awake in the night." she said to me, keeping her eyes locked on the coffee mug on the table.

I didn't want to, but I nodded.

"It's like that." she continued, "But it's your life instead, and you can't get out of it."

**_Flashback_ **

**** _I could hear the yelling and she shouting from the other room, and so did Jellybean. Their constant arguing never seemed to end, and this time, it seemed far worse. I glanced over to the other end of the room, seeing my sister curled up on her bed with her cuddly toy held close to her chest as she stared at the half open door in fear, the shadows of our parents moving constantly on the other side. There was then a smash of a plate or glass, and then a loud thud that made us jump. I crawled out of bed as silently as I could and sat beside Jellybean, wrapping my arms around her, trying to keep her distracted from the screaming on the other side of the wall. It proved to be challenging, comforting her when you yourself was a mess._

_"Your a worthless alcoholic, FP!" you could hear my mother yell, "You can't even support this family. All you care about is those darn Serpents!"_

_There was another smash, then a loud slap, causing my heart (and JB's) to freeze instantly. It was silent for a few moments, and then heeled footsteps grew closer and louder as they approached the room. In seconds, JB and I had managed to get underneath the covers of our own beds, pretending to be asleep for when our mother came in. A flood of light from the hallway entered the room, shining over Jellybean, leaving me in the dark at the other end of the room. I shut my eyes in an instant, keeping my breathing somewhat slow and regular. With the eye closest to my pillow as I lay on my side facing her, I opened it carefully and subtly. Silently, I watched as mom bent down, gently nudging my sister awake, and I also noticed a red hand-mark on the side of her cheek, making me understand everything I'd heard minutes earlier. As convincing as possible, Jellybean pretended to wake up as if she'd been asleep through the whole thing, though I knew she'd been petrified listening to them._

_"Hey, JB. Wake up." she whispered barely loud enough for me to hear: "We need to leave. We're going on a little holiday."  
_

_I studied Jellybean's acting skills as she yawned and rubbed her eyes - it fascinated me to think how good a seven year old could act so well. Patiently, I waited for my mom to shake me awake too. But she didn't. Instead, she lifted JB into her arms and left the room, leaving me in the dark corner of the room, in the shadows where I couldn't be seen. But she knew I was there, I mean, why wouldn't I be there. And then it hit me; she intentionally left me. No wonder - mom and dad always loved her more than the did me, so why would mom even think once about little me, also frightened about what he'd heard or seen. I may be older, but I wasn't necessarily stronger: I'd heard and seen more arguments, so therefore I probably was the kid who was more damaged._

_When I was certain mom wasn't coming back for me, I flung the covers off and hurried out of the room, not caring about the bright light my eyes needed to yet adjust to. I hurried into the living room, hoping they would at least acknowledge I was there. But they didn't. They never did - I don't know why I tried to convince myself this one time they did. By the door, mom stood with a fearful Jellybean in her arms, still shouting at dad, one finger prodding him repeatedly in the chest. He had his arms held out, a bear bottle in one and a half-smoked cigarette in the other, it's smoke clouding the room. When JB noticed me, she reached out to me, her arms outstretched in my direction, causing mom to look over to me to. There was no compassion in her eyes, not anywhere near the same love she had for my sister - it made me despise myself._

_"Juggie!" my sister whimpered, trying to struggle out of mothers grip to me._

_I was the one that comforted her, listened to her, helped her through her homework and all her other problems. Usually, siblings who were seven years apart in age would dislike eachother, get on eachother's nerves, but we were all eachother had. My arms stretched to touch her fingertips, despite our mom's body forcing us apart. Though I could feel the pain of the tears in my throat, I forced them back, but Jellybean couldn't do the same. She pined at mom's back to let her go, but she was to busy arguing to even feel it. In my head, mom was taking my sister and leaving me with a drunk as a father and that was that._

_"You'd be lucky if I came back!" she spat, then stormed out of the door, slamming it shut behind her, JB's sobs gradually fading away, then blocked by the sound of the car starting._

_And that was the last I ever saw of my mom and sister._

I snapped out of it, returning to the now. I glanced back over at Betty who hadn't moved an inch. She forced herself to look me in the eyes, her throat swallowing hard. 

"I-" she found it hard to speak, "I- I was raped."


	4. Betty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to listen to a song, I suggest 'when the party's over' by Billie Eilish :)
> 
> \- Gracie x  
> 
> 
> ** WARNING **  
> ~ MATURE THEMES AND TRIGGERING TO SOME AUDIENCES (but it doesn't get detailed or even to that point so it shouldn't be too bad)!!! ~

_**Flashback**_

_My feet ached as I dragged myself to the other end of Riverdale, my bag weighing heavily on my shoulder as the rain dripped onto my clothes and hair. He wasn't even bothered that it was pouring it down with rain, and I hadn't thought it would rain. Instead, he called me and demanded I would be at his in half an hour, despite the fact it took me forty minutes to walk there. The skies were gradually growing darker as the night drew on, and I'd always feared walking the dark streets at night, especially after Jason's murder last July. But he never cared about that - why would he, he's the cocky, egoistic football player with privileges that coaches son would get._

_He hadn't given me a reason for me to go there instantly, but I wasn't looking forward to seeing him. Chuck Clayton had threatened me to become his girlfriend, threatening me by saying he'd make my life a living hell (which he was definitely capable of). As I trudged there, trying my hardest to get to his ten minutes earlier that than the journey took, I felt the cold drips of rain run down my back, soaking my jumper and making it transparent, and my shoes had puddles in them that squelched with each step._

_Finally, I reached his house, sopping with rainwater, drenched to the skin. I shivered as turned the corner to his large, five bedroomed house on a rich street where all the homeowners had luxury vehicles. And then saw them, the bulldogs. The entire football team were dancing inside; you could see them through the windows with cans of alcoholic beverage, most of them sucking the faces off the desperate cheerleaders such as Veronica Lodge and Cheryl Blossom. As much as I wanted to turn back, I would get a punishment for it._

_Before I'd even reached the front door, Chuck opened it to welcome me in, his spiteful smirk looking at the clothes that clung to my figure. He always stared at me like a piece of meat, and to him, I was. As I entered the house, the smell of sweat and alcohol filled my nose, causing me to scrunch it from the pungent scent. Eyes glowered at me, girls grimacing as they scowled at my outfit, or lack of. But Chuck didn't care - he liked the fact that it made my bra visible and that it clung to my thighs; he didn't wait long until his hands were on my butt, making me feel instantly uncomfortable._

_As he lead me around the house, I noticed many recognisable faces: Archie Andrews, Moose Mason, Reggie Mantle, and a year ago Jason Blossom would've been here too. Each one accompanied by a cheerleader: Cheryl Blossom, Josie McCoy and Veronica Lodge being prime examples. Sluts._

_"Hey," Chuck whispered in my ear seductively, making my skin crawl, "I want to show you something."_

_If I was to refuse, he would hurt me, physically. He forced me to wear long sleeves and jeans because of the red hand marks that stained my pale skin. He would say harsh words to me, making me feel like a worthless ant compared to a omnipotent god. I had no choice but to go with him with a fake smile printed on my face, all an act I showed all day of every day._

_He forcefully pushed me into a room, my back falling onto a cushioned bed, but the duvet was scratchy and rough. Slowly, he locked the door with a key, making sure I was watching him as he put the key on the door-frame, too high for me to reach; it was a form of torture, and I was petrified of him, and what he was going to do to me._

_Before I could get off the bed, he was on top of me, one hand at each side of my head, grinning to himself maliciously as he watched my face as I squirmed frantically from under him. I tried to yell, but the music was too loud and teenagers were too drunk to care. His hands moved to my soggy trousers, his lips violently kissing my neck. My efforts to push him off me proved useless, as he held me down stronger as he unbuttoned by pants, and at that point, I gave up._

_My innocence vanished and my last millilitre of happiness gone. Just. Like. That._

"Wh- what?" Jughead stammered, his eyes widening in disbelief as he digested the information. 

"You heard me." I managed to say, despite the pain in my throat from trying to prevent the tears from falling, "He hit me, he hurt me, and then he- he did that."

My throat clogged up, and I couldn't speak anymore. Jughead stayed silent for a few minutes more, running his hand through his black fluffy hair after throwing his beanie onto the armrest of the sofa. I glanced over at him, yearning to see his reaction even if I didn't really want to see it. His eyes were still wide and his mouth slightly open in disbelief.

He stammered before speaking, struggling on what to say, "Jeez, Betts... I- I... Who was it?"

I could see the rage on his face, despite trying not to show it, his jaw clenched and his teeth firmly forced together. His entire body was tense as his hands were clenched together in-front of him as his foot tapped as he waited for me to answer. But I couldn't.

"Who was it, Betty?" his voice was impatient, and it definitely hinted he was rageful. 

I pierced my lip in a tight line, "I can't say, Jug. He- he'd find out and-"

"And do what?" he snapped, his voice raised, but then he lowered into into a sad whispered, "He _raped_ you, Betty. He needs to go to prison."

"He's the golden boy at school. They would believe him over me any day." I told him, biting the inside of my cheek to keep myself under control. 

I never thought telling someone about it all would be so challenging. It physically hurts, not just mentally, and Jughead's reaction isn't making it much easier to open up - I fear he'll tell the police, and I doubt there would be any action taken on an accusation that nobody would really care about. And I know this because it happened to my sister Polly; it was three years ago, and her ex-boyfriend was furious that she ended things with him, so decided to force himself on her. She told the police, but they didn't care - they didn't even talk to Jason, and then a year later when they found him dead in Sweetwater River, she was the first culprit they hassled. And I do _not_ want a repeat in that. 

"Yeah, but they can't deny proof." he replied, and in a swift move he was on his feet pacing the room back and forth, his footsteps a rhythmic beat on the floor.

I furrowed my eyebrows at him, "How, Jughead? How are we going to get proof?"

"Fair point," he answered, holding his hand over his mouth in thought, "But I'm not letting that son of a bitch get away with this.", he sat beside me again, his head in his hands, "Who did this, Betty."

I really wanted to tell him who it was, so badly. In everything he was saying, he was right, dead right. I needed proof to lock him up, and that's what I wanted to do, and now I had someone to help me, it was not so possible. But how would I get the proof that he raped me without going through it all again. I glanced over at Jughead who was staring at me with serious eyes - I had to tell him; Jughead would be the only person who would willingly help me, and stick to that promise too. 

"Chuck Clayton." I murmured, loud enough so hear could just here. 

His eyes widened, like he'd heard the name before, "Chuck? Seriously?"

"Wait..." I turned to face him, feeling the tears drying on my face as I became conscious of myself, "Do- do you know him?" 

"Sort of..." he told me, "I haven't met him in flesh, but I do know him."

He took hold of my hand, giving it a tight squeeze, showing me a tight reassuring smile, "We can do this, Betty." he told me.

**_Flashback_**

_I couldn't stay in that house, surrounded by drunken teens, dancing to modern music with artists who couldn't even sing in tune. I grabbed my bag from beside the door, and turned back before leaving. Chuck was laughing with his friends, the only one not seeming convinced was a red-headed guy in a varsity jacket, also my neighbour Archie Andrews, but in my eyes, he was just as bad; he was a friend of Chuck's, and that was enough. As I wiped my eyes, the running mascara smudged around my eyes and down my cheeks. I ran from the house, hiding my face from everyone as I ran back to my house in the darkness of the streets with only the lamps lighting up the way. That was it, that was the last straw. I felt so dead inside, like my entire purpose was gone and nobody would care if I just disappeared._

_I changed into some different clothes, mostly black and with an old jacket that belonged to my sister ages ago, and then called a taxi. My mother was out with Polly or Charles like she usually was, not caring about me as usual, which I was used to by now. But now, nothing cared anymore, and I needed to feel alive again, one way or another._

_The taxi dropped me off on the Southside of Riverdale, a rough area scurrying with gangs, drugs and an endless supply of alcohols. I went into the first bar I saw, one called the Whyte Wyrm, not even bothering with the men in Serpent-marked leather jackets that eyed me up in the same way Chuck did - for some reason, I trusted these more than him._

_And that night, I drank glasses and glasses of alcohol until I forgot everything I knew about myself, even my own name. The last I remember is leaving the bar with a bottle of a strong alcohol in my hand as I stumbled into the dark flickering streets of the town with the acrid smells of the roughness of the Southside._

_But I didn't care. I wasn't conscious of anything at this point, and all the pain I was feeling was dormant, both physically and mentally._


	5. Jughead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you want to listen to a song, I suggest 'Buzzcut Season' by Lorde :)
> 
> \- Gracie x  
> 
> 
>   
> (and there is another *mini* TRIGGER WARNING for this chapter)

Out of exhaustion, she fell asleep on the couch with her head on my shoulder, her lips parted slightly and her chest rising rhythmically as she breathed. One moment, she was listening to me, the next in a peaceful sleep, her body becoming lip and fell slowly into me. I didn't mind, but I did feel scared to move - I didn't want to wake her. Gently, I took hold of her hand that lightly lay on my edge of my leg, turning it over to see the scars that were printed onto her skin. On her palm, there were four crescent shaped cuts in a deep, dry crimson, and as I moved my eyes to her wrists, there were harsh slashes in a similar red shade in an irregular pattern or length. I could see the image in my head of her sat on her bedroom floor, trying to remove the mental pain with physical. Sighing heavily, I lifted her up again, the same way I had yesterday and carried her into the bedroom, laying her on top of the duvet, pulling a light sheet over her. I took one more glance at her wrists, and the hand prints that dyed her skin. and the small cuts in her palms before leaving the room, switching off the light as I left her sleeping peacefully. I had no doubt that those demons come back to haunt her as she slept, but I couldn't help her when she was sleeping, as I wasn't in her head. 

I grabbed a bowl out of the cupboard and prepared myself some cereal before sitting on the couch, reaching for the the remote that must've accidentally fallen to the floor earlier. As I flicked through the channels, I found myself not cared about the TV at all, but more so Chuck Clayton. My link with him is that he's my childhood friend's best mate on the football team at Riverdale High. The 'childhood friend' was nobody other than Archie Andrews, my dad's old-best-friend Fred's son (when I was younger and he wasn't a drunk); we used to hang out all the time over at Pop's or at Picken's Park... but that was before high school, but now, I haven't spoken to him since he stopped acknowledging me and kept pretending he didn't know me. But for Betty, I would put all that behind me if it got this dickhead behind bars.

I left the TV on a random horror film called Scream from the 1990's or something, but I didn't really focus on it, and I made sure the volume was fully down so it couldn't wake and frighten Betty. I put my untouched cereal on the coffee table and went to retrieve my phone from the dining-room table, quickly typing in the pass-code and tapping the contacts icon on the homepage. Archie was right at the top since my contacts were in alphabetical order; I hesitated before calling him, as it seems like forever since we last saw or heard from eachother. But I was reminded of Betty's situation and pressed the call button instantly. 

It rang for a few minutes and I questioned whether he'd pick up, but eventually, his slightly distorted voice came through the microphone. 

"Hey, uh, Jughead..? What's up?" his voice was unsure and uncertain.

I swallowed the lump in my throat away, "Um, hey, Arch. Do you know Chuck Clayton, by any chance?" 

There was a silence for a moment, only the sound of the phone's connection wheezing through the call. I sat down on the sofa as I waited for him to speak, letting the TV play through a scene that contained a girl running though a house in panic.

"Yeah, I do actually." He responded, "Why?"

I didn't want to explain over the phone, so I thought it would be better to meet up. But then I remembered that he could tell Chuck that Betty told me about everything, which made me think twice. 

"Can you meet me at Pop's?" I asked in a sudden breath, "Like, now?"

He stammered a little on the other end of the line, "Jug, it's half nine? What's so urgent you can't tell me on the phone?" 

"Archie..." I growled, "Be there in ten, please."

"Fine."

The line ended and a monotone ring sounded for a minute before I too clicked the 'end call' button. Before leaving, I poked my head around the corner to see if Betty was sleeping, which she was, and soundly: I also left a note on the table with my phone number, then I left, making sure to lock the door behind me. 

The diner was quiet, only lit up by the colourful neon words and logos on the wall. As I entered, the small bell rang above the door, and a few heads turned to look at me before continuing with their business. Seeing I'd beat Archie here, if he was to even show up, I ordered a small coffee from Pop and sat on a stool by the bar, idly reading the menu as a form of distraction as I waited. 

Almost fifteen minutes later, the bell rang again, and before I could turn around to see, Archie slid into the seat next to me, ordering a strawberry milkshake by only signalling a hand at Pop. For a short while, until Archie got his milkshake, it was silent, only to sound of glasses and cups clattering and the distinct chatter in the diner. 

"Why did you want to meet me, Jug?" he finally said, turning his head to look at me.

I did the same, and wow, he has changed quite a bit. His jawline was squarer and his face looked more mature; he wore a blue and yellow varsity jacket with a light grey, almost white, t-shirt underneath. His hair was shorter and not as scraggy as I remembered it - it probably was his new look for high school I never really saw. 

"Chuck Clayton." I stated, my voice firm at the thought of him hurting Betty the way he did.

He shrugged, "Yeah, and..."

I hesitated. I know what Betty said, but this was something I couldn't keep to myself. People needed to know.

"He," I started, " _r_ _aped_ a girl. A girl at that party at his two nights go." 

Archie furrowed his eyebrows, unsure whether he believed me. He shook his head, taking another sip of his milkshake. I watched him, but he didn't look convinced. 

He swallowed his drink, "What the hell are you on about?"

"Betty Cooper." 

He froze at that name, his jaw clenching as he almost chocked on his drink. He looked over to me in shock an confusion, you could almost hear his mind whirring as he thought the name through. 

"Wait... how do you know that name?" he questioned, suddenly serious. 

My wording was crucial, as I didn't want Archie going back to Chuck and then that asshole coming knocking down my door. If I wasn't careful, this could lead to loosing Betty's trust.

I twirled my chair towards him, my elbow on the surface, "That doesn't matter. Did you see her leave the party?" 

"Yeah, but what does that have to do with anything?" he answered back, oblivious.

I looked around to see if anyone was nearby before answering him, "If I tell you, you _cannot_ tell Chuck - or anybody for that matter!"

He shrugged, nodding slightly in response, so I continued, pausing as Pop refilled my coffee cup.

"Chuck raped Betty." I blurted out, unable to hold it back anymore, "I don't know the whole story of what happened that night, but she told me enough." 

"What? Jug, do you even hear yourself?" he scoffed. 

I scowled at him as he stared wide-eyed at me. He shifted as he was about to get up, but I grabbed his arm before he could get anywhere. I decided to pull him into a private booth in the corner, bringing our drinks with us.

"Think, Archie. Anything you saw or heard?" I pushed, trying to force anything out of him, and I knew there was something he wasn't telling me. 

He leaned back in the booth, his arm slumped on the top of the seat as he looked down in thought. I think he was debating whether he should tell me or not more than the fact he was trying to remember anything. I stared at him intensely, waiting impatiently for an response. 

He finally looked back up at me, biting his lip, "Fine. On her way out, she was crying, and her clothes were all ragged and crumpled. She had mascara running down her face and she seemed... frightened, i think."

"Good, we're getting there. Anything else?" I demanded.

He twisted his mouth, "Yeah, actually. I thought I could hear screaming or something, but I was too drunk to notice..."

Despite sounding unsure, I believed him. I knew when he was lying, I'd known since he was born. Again, we sat there in an uncomfortable silence, borderline awkward. Archie and I were best friends when we were younger, inseparable even. Each day I'd go to his and we'd play the latest games or just sit and tell eachother everything. And by everything, I mean _everything_. He understood me, and didn't care that things were rough at home or my dad was a criminal; unlike others, who looked at me like I was my father, and at a young age, it hurt, even if I didn't show it. And Fred, Archie's dad, was the kindest and generous person you could ever meet, and even-though he'd fallen out with my dad a few years after we were born, he still treated me like his own. It was weird now, after everything that went down between us, to be sat in a booth at Pop's together - almost like the old times.

"Jug... I'm sorry." he finally said, breaking the silence.

I smiled at him, knowing what he meant, "I know."

He grinned back, huffing a small laugh. The red-head may have been an ass to me, but I still missed our friendship, more than I wanted to admit, and despite how he's friends with and what he did, I believe he's a good-person at heart.

"Mate, I want to help." he added, "I've known Betty for nearly all my life, and I always knew there was something up with her after her and Chuck started dating."

I nodded, appreciating his answer, "Sure, bro. You gotta build my trust first though."

I slid out from the booth, placing a five dollar bill on the table for Pop to pay for both of our drinks. He didn't break eye contact with me, and I saw the same innocent expression I remembered when he made the promise that we'd be friends forever before he went to Riverdale High.

"Stay in touch." I said to him before leaving the diner, the ring of the bell signalling my exit as I walked out onto the car-park tarmac that was lit up by the bright lights of the Pop's sign, the milkshake logo flickering slightly.

Glancing back, I saw Archie watching me through the window, still sipping on his milkshake even-though it was empty now. i then headed off back to the trailer, hoping that Betty was still sound asleep.


	6. Betty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to listen to a song, I suggest 'Let Me Down Slowly' by Alec Benjamin featuring Alessia Cara :)
> 
> \- Gracie x

The front door woke me up, making me jump a little underneath the thin sheet I was under. I rubbed my eyes as I sat up against the headboard, adjusting my hair a little as it was a complete mess before Jughead came into the room. A few seconds later, Jughead peered his head around the door frame to check if I was awake, and seeing I was, though only slightly, he came in, perching himself on the edge of the bed. He chuckled as I yawned, making the heat rise up my cheeks as they turned a rosy colour that I hoped wasn't too visible. 

"Morning," he grinned, seeming pleased with himself, "How are you feeling?"

I shrugged. To be honest, I wasn't sure how I was feeling. I still felt rough, but definitely better now that it was off my chest. I trusted Jughead; he was eager to help me, despite how troubled I was.

"So-so." I confessed.

In a swift moment, he slid over the bed so he was sat next to me, mirroring my position with his back against the headboard and his legs outstretched. His hand rested on mine in an 'accidental' way, making me flinch slightly, but I didn't pull my hand away. This kindness came rarely - I wasn't going to pass it up. 

He gave my hand a tight squeeze, "It's okay. I've got a lead."

"You have?" 

He nodded, "Yeah. I'll tell you that later though. Breakfast?"

"Please," I smiled, "But not too much, I still haven't got much appetite."

He let go of my hand as he got off the bed, and I felt the cold air attack it in an instant, making it feel someone lonely. I watched him walk off before swinging my legs over the bed, sliding them into the small slippers I'd found yesterday. I trudged myself into the kitchen to see Jughead fiddling with a toaster. For a moment I watched him as he pressed the buttons, hoping one will do what he's hoping. 

"Struggling with that?" I giggled as I joined his side, taking the kitchen appliance from him.

He sighed in defeat as i pressed the button to turn it on on the back, and the toaster immediately came to life, miniature lights turning on at the front. I looked over at him with a smirk as he formed a tight line with his lips, looking down in shame. 

"Have you never used a toaster before?" I asked him.

He bit his lip, "Maybe not..."

I burst out laughing as he put the bread into the toaster, pressing down the leaver as if he'd done it hundred's of times. Sitting down at the table with my head resting on my hand, I watched him with amusement as he waited for the toast to be finished. A minute or so later, the toast popped up, startling Jughead as he jumped backwards a little, causing me to giggle quietly at him as he composed himself, putting the toast on the plate. I could see that he was blushing, even if his head was facing the other way.

"Just butter or..?" he asked, to embarrassed to look back.

"Yeah, just butter please." I replied, trying not to make it obvious that I'd been laughing.

When he'd done it, he put the plate in-front of me, hoping that I wouldn't notice his blush. I did, but I didn't mention it. He slid into the chair opposite me, sipping at an already-made cup of coffee, avoiding obvious eye-contact.

"So, uh..." he began to say after swallowing his drink, "Do you want to do anything today..?"

That was a good question. If I was being completely honest, I wasn't sure. I could risk bumping into the devil incarnate - or Chuck as he is more popularly known, but then I do need to take my mind off things. For some reason, when I was near Jughead, I felt calm and happy, or happier than I was to be more accurate. Obviously, I wasn't 100%, I mean, why would I be? For the past year, my life has been a living _hell_ , and my mental health has been down the drain, so why would it be suddenly better? But still, Jughead's helping me through it, and I'm thankful for that. 

"Maybe we could go on a walk." I said, "If you want?"

Jughead nodded, showing a lipped-smile, "Sure."

There was a pause as I ate my breakfast, trying not to show my discomfort as I swallowed the burnt bread. I've definitely had better, but I couldn't tell him that - he somehow tried hard on making me breakfast, even if it did take little to not effort. 

"Is the toast alright?" he queried, getting up to put his glass in the sink.

"Yeah thanks, it's amazing." I responded, trying not to sound sarcastic, though it proved to be difficult. 

**_Flashback_**

_My mind was occupied with the thoughts of next period's chemistry test, going over what I'd revised the night before in my head, remembering equations and chemical formulas so I could get a good score and please my controlling mother, worry if my results would be perfect enough for her, despite not even doing the test yet. I felt myself be knocked aside by a large shoulder, my back hitting the metal lockers violently, a loud crash ringing through the hallway. I spun my head around to see who it was, and the shoulder's owner was staring me in the eyes as I scowled back at him in annoyance._ Chuck Clayton _, he's always been an idiot, hated by what seemed to be no-one but me. He walked away cockily with his mates, all of them part of the school's football team, wearing identical blue and yellow varsity jackets and their stocky, jock-like builds increasing their egos by a thousand. Ugh, I despised them._

_I entered the Blue and Gold office after the bell rang, signalling the end of the school day. After school on most days, I stayed in this room rather than going home - I somehow preferred it, probably because she wasn't controlling ever aspect of my life when I wasn't around her. My fingertips clicked the laptop keyboard frantically, typing out the next newspaper report quickly before the sun went down. I was startled when I saw the door open, as I was normally left alone after school; I saw a familiar yet punch-able person enter the room, a smirk on face as he came in, his hands stuffed in his back pockets as he acted shy, but it was clear he wasn't convincing anybody, and definitely not me._

_"Hey... Betty, is it?"_

_I folded my arms on the table, "Yeah. What do you want?"_

_"Cold, huh?" he chuckled, "I like it."_

_I raised my eyebrows at him, waiting for him to speak again. Unlike me, I was becoming impatient._

_"Well, I wanted to apologise for earlier and hopefully take you for a milkshake at Pop's..?" he asked me, sitting on the edge of the table with that same smirk on his face._

_I shot him a sarcastic smile, "I'd rather not, Chuck. But thanks for the offer."_

_"That isn't an option, Cooper." he growled, snapping my laptop shut in one swift motion, "Or I'm going to make your petty life a living hell."_

_For a few moments, I glared at him, my face stern and unmoving as he stared right back at me with raging eyes. Now I wished I hadn't bothered staying back after school today._

_"Whatever," I shrugged, "I haven't got many friends anyway?"_

_Which was true, as I mainly relied on Kevin as my closest, and probably best friend. I sometimes got on with Ethel, and sometimes Dilton if I could be bothered with him but in school, I just got through it and worried about making myself perfect for the benefit of my mother._

_He scoffed, "I'm sure Kevin wouldn't appreciate me telling him you hate the fact he's gay?"_

_"And why would he believe me?"_

_"I have my ways."_

_That cocky son-of-a-bitch. Knowing him, he would find a way to turn my only friend against me. This is why I hated him so much - he thought he was the king of everyone and everything._

_I jumped up from my chair, grabbing my coat from the desk covered in papered behind me, "Fine. Just don't expect me to be any fun."_

_And that night started it all. From the eyes of anyone else, he was portrayed as a kind gentleman, but they didn't know anything. His hand had somehow snaked up my thigh, despite me trying to remove it, his fingertips harshly grabbing at my skin as I shuffled underneath his grip. He pretended to stroke my hair, but he was subtly yanking the strands, causing me more physical pain as I whimpered and whined._

_"You, Betty, are going to date me until I get bored, okay?" he whispered in my ear while his nails dug into my skin._

_"No." I refused, gritting my teeth._

_He tugged harder, cracking my neck suddenly, my eyes watering from the agony. I tried to hit him with my hand, but he grabbed it first, twisting the skin until I yelped out in pain. He smirked into my neck from my defeat. He chuckled from his victory, releasing my wrist, the red burns stinging still._

_"Sorry, princess, what was that?" he questioned, his hand venturing further up my leg, making me squirm, trying to get out of his intense grip._

_"Yes!"_

_He suddenly let go, his nails scratching my skin before moving his hand away, causing a little bit of blood to seep through the cuts._

_"Great. I'll see you tomorrow Cooper." he smirked, leaving me alone in the corner of the booth shaking._

_I never thought I'd be in the same situation as Hannah Baker..._

"Shall we get going?" he asked me, handing me a jacket he from the dustier corner of his wardrobe.

"Yeah."

He took my hand as we left the trailer, locking it behind him before heading towards the Northside of Riverdale, all the while I was wishing not to see Chuck.

We headed towards Picken's Park, which was home to the more positive memories in my head. I came here all the time with my mom, dad and sister, and sometimes my brother if he wasn't out on his bikes with his mates. We used to get an ice-cream, sit on the swings and then feed the ducks in the evening just as the sun was setting and reflected on the rippling water. I made me remember how _good_ things were back then when my mother wasn't so uptight and things were less stressful and innocent. But I didn't think about that too much.

"It's nice to be out." I said, swinging our joined hands, "I haven't come here in _ages_."

He stopped in his tracks, pulling me to a sudden stop too, "Seriously? How come?"

I shrugged, looking around the park. There were children on the swings and slide with their parents nattering on the benches surrounding them; there were teenagers cycling by on their bikes at speeds a little too fast; there were people out on a stroll with their dogs with earphones in one ear. This was what Riverdale looked like from an outsider looking in. 

"I never got the chance." I replied, a quick response to dispose the conversation. 

We sat on a bench overlooking the lake where ducks and swans glided across the waters underneath a willow tree, shading us from the outside world - and the blinding sunlight. The calming melodies of the rippling water soothed me, and Jughead's presence made me feel safe, something that I felt rarely. 

There was a buzz from Jughead's trouser pocket, and he moved in an uncomfortable position to reach it, which I found oddly amusing. He'd received a text message, and even-though I hated being nosy, I couldn't help but peek. It was from Archie Andrews...

_Archie Andrews!?_ As in my neighbour? As in Chuck's mate? 

"Really, Jughead? Him!?"

He shoved the phone away without replying, "He's helping us Betts. He's going undercover, or something like that."

I raised an eyebrow at him. Archie Andrews never seemed to agree with Chuck, but he still followed him around like a helpless sheep, so why would he go against his 'leader' to help me?

"You're kidding, right?" 

He shook his head, "No, I met up with him this morning. He said he never had the guts to go against the whole football team, and he said he never really knew the extent of stuff." 

From being Archie's neighbour since we were kids, I knew him well enough to know he never had bad intentions, so it seemed more believable that he wanted to help. 

"What else did he say?" I asked him, my voice quiet.

"He said that things seem to make sense now. He saw you leave the party, but never really acknowledged that you were sad and stuff: he was too drunk." he explained, but was put to a stop as his phone buzzed again.

Like the message before, it was from Archie. However, the message was in capitals. I couldn't make out what it said, but from Jughead's expression, it wasn't good. His hands typed sonic-speed on the phone keyboard, replying with a short message before shoving it in his pocket and leaping to his feet. He grabbed my hand and pulled me up too, leading me out from underneath the willow tree. 

"What's happening, Jug?" 

I was beginning to panic, the worry building up in me as my hands began to uncontrollably shake in his gentle yet urgent grip. I'd never seen him move so quick; Jughead being on edge made me increasing nervous as he was normally a chilled person. I spun my head around to see if there was anything that alerted him, and there was.

Chuck Clayton, followed by three other's on the football team, including a on-edge Archie Andrews as he continued to betray his dickhead of a 'friend'. I trembled as I scurried though the park with Jughead, all the while Chuck's devilish gaze stuck on me. 


	7. Jughead

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to listen to a song, I suggest 'Sweater Weather' by The Neighbourhood :)
> 
> \- Gracie x

Her hand became instantly cold in mine, the shuddering in her hand making it hard to keep hold of her, but I refused to let go. I was thankful for Archie's quick message, but it had arrived a second too late. The first message was a notice that he was with Chuck and he was keeping his ear out for anything, but the second was a urgent warning for us to leave immediately. Pushing past people, I could feel Betty stumbling behind me, her legs dragging her though the park that somehow seemed busier now than it did before. I looked back briefly to see their whereabouts, but there was no sight of them, then my phone buzzed again in my back pocket. As I reached for it, there was a sudden harsh force knocking me to the floor, my head banging against the concrete pathway, causing my vision to become blurring and disorientated, my hearing sounding distant and faint. There was a high-pitched ring in my ears before my vision went black and my mind shut down.

**_Flashback_**

_The screen flashed brightly in front of our eyes as the game played and our fighters battled from our control, the health bar gradually going down with each received hit. Archie's character threw one last punch at mine, knocking him through the air in slow motion. I groaned in annoyance, throwing the controller gently down on the bean-bag, watching the screen as Archie's character did their iconic celebratory move._

_"You're shit at this Jughead," he laughed, "I need a more challenging gaming competitor."_

_I scoffed, "Yeah, but don't you feel better for winning all the time?"_

_"Fair point."_

_He clicked the button to start the next round, and I picked up my controller with determination to in, despite the minimal chances. Like every other time, I was easily defeated in less than ten seconds, and it was amusing for Archie how bad I was at this, despite all my practice._

_"Mate, seriously? I bet Vegas would even beat you at this!" he chuckled, throwing his hands in the air._

_I put the controller on the floor and swivelled to face him. Since middle school had ended for us and I wasn't allowed to high school because of my dad's jail status, I was worried my friendship with Archie would somehow disappear. He was going to be making a ton of new friends, and I assumed he would forget about me sooner or later._

_"Would you ever turn your back on me?" I asked him, "I mean, we're not going to see eachother everyday and your going to Riverdale High-"_

_He put his hand on my shoulder, as if to reassure me, "Bro, I would never. We've been best mates since the day I could remember."_

_I smiled at him weakly, but there was a gut feeling that in a years time, we would no longer be friends, despite how close we were now. Archie reached and picked the controller up off the floor, holding it out in front of me. I took it, huffing a quiet laugh before continuing the game, and continuing being pummelled repeatedly for another few hours._

I could feel my entire body being rocked frantically over and over, large hands shaking me vigorously until consciousness came back. Against my cheek and arm I could feel the cold concrete, and as I opened my eyes I saw a side-wards view of the park as well as a ginger head looking down at me. 

Realising what had happened, I sat up instantly, my eyes following a moment after. I scanned the park for Betty, but there was no sight of her at all. I glanced over at Archie, and his face appeared shameful, telling me everything without using any words. 

"You let him take her?!" I exclaimed, leaping to my feet, "Seriously, Arch!?"

He stammered, "I- I had no choice. He knocked me out too when I went to help!"

I gripped my hair in frustration, growling in a low voice at the thought of that asshole dragging Betty away. I couldn't even bare the thought of him hurting her. Letting Archie follow behind me, I stormed out of the park and down the road to Pop's for a burger to allow my head to think clearer. Archie's footsteps sped up behind me until he was by my side, his hands in his varsity jacket pocket and his head down in mortification.

As I entered the diner, I slid into a booth by the door, throwing my hand up at Pop to tell him I wanted the usual burger and fries with a cup of coffee. I heard Archie shout that he wanted a strawberry milkshake too, and then telling me he would pay for it, but I didn't really care about that. 

Chuck would definitely know that she told me about what happened at the party, and the way she feared him, it made me panic on what he was going to do with Betty. Even at the thought of him Betty would burst into tears, but knowing she was with him and probably in pain as I sat and ate a burger, it tore me apart. 

I thanked Pop as he placed the plate down, smiling weakly at him before he left, returning to his place behind the bar. As I ate silently, I could feel Archie's eyes on me, wanting to ask a burning question that he dare not say.

"What is it, Arch?" I sighed, a hint of annoyance in my voice.

He raised an eyebrow, "Uh, nothing. Well, just that... how did you and Betty meet?"

I put the burger back down on the plate, looking out of the window as I thought of the right words to say, "I found her... on the Southside. She was-"

"On the Southside?" he interrupted.

"Yes, now shut up," I snapped, "She was drunk, hurt, and I dare say on the edge of death." 

My eyes darted up to him, signalling that he could speak. He finished his sip of milkshake then furrowed his eyebrows as he formulated an answer in his head.

"That's- that's all because of Chuck..?" 

I nodded, "Uh huh."

Just as I was going to explain further, Pop came over with a bill, but there was something playing on his mind. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but shut it again. I glanced over at Archie, who had also darted his eyes to look at my reaction to Pop's odd attitude. 

"Is something wrong, Pop?" I questioned before he walked away. 

He was hesitant about answering, but I was confident that Archie and I's glares were enough to make him spill.

He looked around before speaking, "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation, about the Cooper girl and that boy." I signalled for him to continue, "They were here the other week. I'd heard the girl yelp, and he was then saying something to her. I couldn't quite hear what he said, but it made her cry. He then dragged her out by the wrist."

"You didn't say anything?" Archie said before I could.

"I debated it, but going against the Claytons, I didn't stand a chance." he frowned, putting the money back on the table, "The meals on the house."

After hearing this, I couldn't enjoy my meal. Without even warning Archie, I sprung out of the booth and dashed out of the door with steam coming from my ears. Archie was left to follow after me again, almost stumbling down the stairs as he caught up to me. His hand suddenly forced me to a stop in front of me, blocking me from going forward, and despite pushing against him, he was strong enough to hold me back. 

I looked at him with pleading eyes, almost begging him to let me go. It was as if flames were roaring in me, and the only way to let them out was to knock Chuck to the ground. Each moment I was away from Betty, I became more and more agitated, unable to stay calm or relaxed. I had no idea what she was going though at this very moment, and it made me restless. 

"You need to calm down, bro." he said to me, his tone serious.

I gave up pushing against him, "But I need to find her. That son-of-a-bitch could be doing god-knows what with her!"

"Mate, if you carry on like that, your gonna be in jail and what good that's gonna do?" his arm dropped, trusting me to not storm off, "You can't help her if you're behind bars."

My head bowed; he was right. At this rate, I would get in trouble and do something I would regret. For a moment, I raked my brain for any ideas, but I had nothing - my thoughts were so clouded I couldn't think at all. His hand rested on my shoulder reassuringly, leading me back towards Elm Street where his house was.

As we passed a large house that was next to his, Archie gestured to it with his hand, nudging me to show me. I can remember him saying that he lived next-door to Betty, so I assumed this was her house. It had a rose-red door with a golden handle, the house number in a bold black. There were trees and plants lining the lawn and in front of her windows, and it appeared well kept: I could imagine her living in a house like this. 

"Is this hers?" I asked, and her nodded in response.

Just as I was about to head up the stairs, Archie dragged me along to his, not saying a word until we were through his door. I stared at him, clearly irritated, but he dragged me up the stairs before saying a word.

"What is with you, Arch?" I questioned, slightly raising my voice at him angrily, "I need to talk to her mother, tell her all this!"

He shook his head, somehow collected as he stared out of him window in the one of the house next door - Betty's. His eyebrows then furrowed with confusion, his eyes narrowing as he stared. With his head, he signalled for me to look, and when I did, I saw the inside of her room, decorated in light pink and blue. When I looked closer, there was a woman in there, presumably her mother, tidying and cleaning, looking normal.

I shrugged, as it didn't seem abnormal, "And..?"

"She never cared about her. Ever." he told me, still watching the window, "Her priorities were always Polly and her twins or Charles who was MIA for ten years, never Betty. I can remember Betty leaving her house after an argument with her mother about being the one she never loved or something - it's just odd how she's in her room... cleaning..." 

This was hard to hear; "Wow. She's had it rougher than I thought."

Archie nodded in agreement, "More than we'll ever know."


	8. Betty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to listen to a song, I suggest 'For You' by Aidan Gallagher (i love him) :)
> 
> \- Gracie x

I opened my eyes to see a room I'd feared, a room that brought a collection of bad memories back to me. As I tried to squirm, I realised that I couldn't move, as my left arm was tied to the bed post, tightly too. The more I moved, the more the rough rope rubbed against my wrist until it was red and sore. I tried to use my other hand to untie it, but there was no hope; the rope had been tied into a tight and undoable knot. 

The door then opened, and that cold-hearted bastard came in with that hideous smirk that was printed on his face. Despite the pain on my wrist, I kept wriggling, kicking my legs at him to keep him back, but his hand gripped my ankles, his nails digging into my skin, possibly drawing blood. 

"Why are you crying, Betty." He asked, his eyes glaring devilish at me, flickering between my eyes, lips and my body, "I've missed you."

His face came closer to me, towards my neck. Before he got too close, I spat directly in his face, a few millimeters away from his right eye. A flash of annoyance flashed over his face, then he began laughing, sounding like the devil incarnate. 

"Get away from me!" I yelled, using my free hand to knock him around the head, but all he did was grab that too, giving me a burn on my wrist.

I yelped out in pain as he twisted the skin, but there was nothing for me to do. He somehow had hold of my ankles and my right wrist. My voice felt sore as a cried and screamed, hoping someone would hear and call the police or something.

"What's the matter?" He cooed, closing the gap between us, "You missed me?"

"Fuck off," I hissed, turning my head away from him, "I hate you."

Chuck tutted, "Aww, I'm sure you don't mean that."

He let go of me, standing in the middle of the room, watching me an amused grin. Just as I thought all hope was lost, I heard the screeching of car types outside as they pulled to a sudden stop, then moments later the slam of two car doors, pushed with force. At first, Chuck wasn't bothered, but when there was a heavy bang on the door, he was then on edge. I assumed it was his petty friends, but when I heard Jughead yelling at the door, I couldn't help but smile a little, despite being tied roughly to a bed-post. 

His face showed rage at me, becoming redder with anger. He stomps over, my slight smile dropping as he brought his hand up. His hand slapped my cheek, the sting almost unbearable from the force, which would leave a bright red mark for me to cover with concealer. There was another bang and shout on the door, and after hesitation, Chuck door stormed out, slamming the door behind him. 

I was left to my hearing now, listening out for anything. There was the sound of glass shattering, and then yelling, but their words were inaudible. There was yelling, then the sound of a fight, before loud thudding up the stairs. My eyes were glued to the door, waiting for it to be opened and hoping that it was Jughead. I could feel my heartbeat in my chest, thudding heavily - I could hear it in my ears and I felt the beating in my head. 

"In here!" I yelled, straining my voice, "Help!"

I watched as the doorknob moved slowly, then the door open to reveal Archie, his face dumbfounded as he stared at the sight in disbelief. He shouted for Jughead, who I could then hear running up the staircase, then peering his head around the door. As soon as he saw me, he dashed into the room, kneeling down beside me, his hand holding my face and tucking a loose strand behind my ear. 

"Oh god, Betty. I'm so sorry. I-"

I used my free hand and shushed him with my finger over his lips. His eyes were glazed with tears as his eyes darted to my lips. Before I could think about anything, I pushed my lips against his, shocking him at first. A second later he kissed me back, his hands holding the sides of my face, his thumb gently caressing the sides of my cheeks. 

"Ehem." Archie said, causing Jughead and I to pull away from eachother.

"Sorry," I responded, "Where's Chuck?" 

Jughead scoffed, "Knocked him out, son-of-a-bitch." 

He reached in his pocket for a pocket knife, and carefully, avoiding my skin, he cut the rope, releasing my red and bloody wrist. With shaky legs, he helped me up, supporting me as much as he could.

"Should I call the police?" Archie asked, holding up his phone.

Jug took a quick look at me for my answer, and I nodded; "Yeah, call them. He deserves to rot in jail."

The sirens wailed as we waited outside on a sep, my head resting on Jugheads shoulder as Archie waited in the room with Chuck. It wa dark outside, but the stars were covered by the thick clouds that loomed over the sky. The flashing of blue and red could be seen on the sides of the houses along the street as they grew closer, their reflections flashing in the windows. The first car pulled up in front of Jughead's, the second in front of that, and the officers climbed out with notebooks and the lot. After a quick conversation between themselves, they separated, two coming towards and the other two heading for the door. 

"Hi, I'm Officer Smith. Betty, right?" I nodded in response, "Do you want to explain what's happened here?" 

And so, sat on the steps outside the house where my worst memories took place. I told the officer what that bastard did to me, how he raped and abused me, threatened me and used me like he had. I was so relieved that this was over with, and that he was finally going to prison for it. Just as I was explaining the night of the party, Chuck walked past me with his head low, his hands behind his back in metal cuffs, lead by the arm by a buff policeman. 

Of course, arrangements would be made and a court ruling. But for now, I was thankful that this whole torture thing was over. No more game, no more hurt and being in constant fear. I felt like I could be happy again, and all Jughead and I was focussed on was improving my mental health, making me the happy and innocent - okay, maybe not innocent, but I would be happy again, for the first time since a year a so ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is NOT the end, but it is the end of part one. The next will be the start of part two which will take place just before the court ruling which is three months later.  
> I will try to get the next chapter up within a week, but I am quite busy so I'm not too sure. 
> 
> Anyway, I'll see you later ;)


	9. Part Two - Jughead

Imagine being thrown off a cliff, into the deep depths of a dark ocean, the waves rough and high, crashing down on top of you as you struggled to breathe, only trying to stay alive but you constantly felt like giving up and letting yourself drown. They were the exact words Betty used to describe it. She told me that when we got home that night as she collapsed on the bedroom floor, her knees shaking, her face stained with black marks from her running mascara; though she no longer lived or (more accurately) survived in the constant fear she had before, the emotion wasn't going to disappear just like that. She told me that _if_ you made it to shore after being struggling alone in the ocean, you don't immediately get up and start walking around again, but instead you are left cold, shivering and in shock, most likely unable to move from the sandy ground you find yourself lying on with you thoughts foggy and your lips blue.  
As I sat beside her, holding her close to me, I couldn't get the image of her drowning in a dark ocean out of my head - it kept repeating in a loop in my mind as I tried to soothe her. Somehow, I was able to stay strong, for her, but that analogy hit me like a bus. And now, three months later, only hours away from Chuck's trial, that image still haunted me as I lay in bed each night with Betty curled up to me, and often, I got little to no sleep because of it. I would lie to her, tell her that the darkness under my eyes was a genetics thing at my age as I didn't want her to worry about me, but only to concentrate on her mental health instead.  
Speaking of her mental health, it's improved drastically over the past few months. Of course, she hasn't entirely healed, but the dark overlay that glazed her eyes had gone and was replaced by a sparkle I'd never seen before, and her eyes now creased as she smiled, telling me how fake her smile once was. She took more pride in herself, and put more effort into day to day things, and even took up a hobby in the meantime, which was caring for sick and homeless dogs at the pet center in town. Watching her progress was worth all the lost sleep, but now I was afraid that during the trail at court, everything was going to regress, and the positivity we'd brought back was going to be thrown away into a bottomless pit. Betty was at the best point in her life right now, despite all the trauma, and I didn't want Chuck to ruin that. Not now, not ever. 

I dragged myself out of bed, leaving Betty still layed there wrapped in the duvet, her head on my pillow rather than her own. My eyes felt tired and my brain was unable to concentrate, incredibly so that I first read the clock as half past twelve rather than six in the morning, proving I was in desperate need of coffee.  
As silently as I could, I made myself a mug of coffee and seated myself at the kitchen table with my laptop closed in front of me. The entire surface of the table was covered with court-case sheets and papers of legal documents, all of which we had to fill in with so little help, that being a challenge on its own. I couldn't even bring myself to look at them or to re-read some of the evidence before the trail to bring the valid points to the forefront of my mind. Sipping on the strong bitterness of the coffee, I began to think about the horrors of the _'what ifs'_ , worrying about if he wasn't found guilty, and if he was released, how would that affect Betty, and if he began to hurt her all over again without me knowing. It hurt my brain.  
"Juggie?" My head jolted up; I'd been too lost in thought to hear her come into the room. I watched as she lowered herself into the chair next to me, her hand outstretched to take hold of mine. Putting the mug onto the table, I held it too, using my other hand to tuck a peice of hair that had fallen from her messy ponytail behind her ear. "The bed got cold," she chuckled jokingly, trying not to make me feel guilty for being slightly too loud with the kettle, "How are you feeling?"  
I let my hand trail along her jawline, "Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Her smile dropped a little, and her grip of my hand flinched and stiffened, refusing to let go. "Hey, Betts, it's okay. We have witnesses and evidence and police reports: he'll be sent to where he belongs, I promise."  
She pursed her lips and reluctantly looked back into my eyes, "How can you promise that? You're not the judge, or the jury." That point was true; though I was allowed to give my witness reports and any evidence that I had, I couldn't decide what was to become of Chuck. He deserved to rot in prison, and the whole town agreed so, but in the end, we didn't know what the outcome was going to be.   
"Betty, I'm sure they'll make the right decision. Even a blind person can see that Chuck is a rapist son-of-a-bitch who doesn't deserve to walk the streets again in his life." I reassured, but all she did was slowly nod her head, sniffling, her mood suddenly decelerating from talking about the trial. "Anyway, what do you want for breakfast? We've got..." I got up from my chair and opened every cupboard in the trailer, but my expression dropped when I found them bare, "An empty cereal box, two drops of milk, or maybe a slice of bread...?" I turned to her with my lips twisted, but she was grinning at me, holding back laughter.   
She stood up and wrapped her arms around my waist, pulling herself into my arms, her head looking up at me with the cutest smile, "How about we stop off at Pop's instead? I know you can't say no to a burger for breakfast." I often forgot how well she knew me, and I loved a burger for breakfast more than anything, well, except Betty of course. 

I drove the motorbike into a parking space close to the door, and as we dismounted I took Betty's hand in mine, intertwining our fingers and giving it a gentle squeeze; I could tell that the trial was in the forefront of her mind, and I couldn't image how stressful it was for her. Up until today, Betty had refused to think about it at all, pushing those thoughts away, but today she wasn't able to do that, and it made today even worse for her. Pop's face lit up when we entered the room and he immediately came over to us with a sympathetic smile on his face, "Good morning you two, how are you feeling?"  
"A little rough," Betty sighed, but she turned to me with a lipped smile, "But we discovered we had no food in and there's no better place to come for something to eat." This made Pop incredibly happy, and after asking if we wanted our usual, we sat in a booth in the corner, tucked away with the bright neon signs reflecting on our faces.   
I took both of her hands in mine, holding them together and using my thumb to caress her cold skin, her eyes looking at me intensely as the corner of her lips tugged into a small smile. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Jug, honestly. Whatever happens today, I know that I have you, and that we can get through anything together no matter what." I could see the tears in her eyes, brimming at the edge of her waterline. I leant over the table I pressed my lips to hers, delicately kissing her longingly, and I felt her tear against the sides of my lips. My head rested against hers as I pulled away, bringing my hand up to wipe underneath her eyes gently, my thumb against her soft cheek. "You and I against the world," I whispered, "No matter what happens today."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for not posting since last year, I had no idea how little motivation I had when I promised a second part to this story so soon. Therefore, I am not promising when the next chapter will be released but hopefully it won't take too long.


End file.
